


That Damned Tail

by Hatsepsut



Category: Neverwinter Nights
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M, Hot Sex, Original dislike, Smut, Tieflings, demon knotting, tail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsepsut/pseuds/Hatsepsut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was fascinated by him and his tail- that damned tail- the minute she saw him. Too bad he can't even stand the sight of her...but she has time, and she is a patient woman. Sometimes. And you know what they say...the bigger they are, the harder they fall.<br/>My only ever fanfiction not in the Dragon Age Universe...But before there was Dragon Age, and Fenris, there was Valen, with his crystaline blue eyes and deep, throaty voice.<br/>A tribute of a fangirl to one of the first Bioware men to steal her heart.<br/>Oh, wait...there were a bunch in Baldur's Gate, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Damned Tail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peran](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Peran).



That damned tail.

 

The very first time she saw him- she was tired, bewildered, dusty and bloodied- he looked at her with those incredibly beautiful crystalline blue eyes of his and with a scowl sour enough to curdle milk on his face. As she struggled to make some sense of what had just happened to her, he just looked on, towering over her, his arms crossed over an impressively deep chest and that tail, that damned tail, twitching behind him.

That was the first thing she had noticed. Not the horns (she’d had the irrational urge to giggle and ask who the horny guy was), not the glorious red hair, not those crystal clear, intense aquamarine eyes looking at her with suspicion and mistrust.

The tail. That damned tail.

As the Seer and Nathyrra explained about the Vallshawhatshername  and the dreadful threat she posed to virgins and kittens, she suppressed the urge to yawn and kept him in her vision, covertly eyeing him out of the corner of her eye; he seemed annoyed, that tale-tell tail swishing behind him with irritation. He stepped up at some point, protested about the Seer putting her faith in _this...this woman_ , as he had said with disdain-the tail punctuation his aggravation with short, staccato swishes- and then backed down once he saw the Seer was determined to trust in her vision.

Not a great start, mind you, but right at that moment, with that mad wizard’s rhymes still ringing in her ears, she could give just about a tarnished copper and that was all. She absentmindedly noted that his voice, rusty and deep-throated, gave her a little shiver. She shook her head to clear the thought of that voice whispering dirty nothings in her ear-that was for later- and concentrated on her own misery. There was a geas placed on her, she had to either fight that whatismacalled Vallashasomethning person or die.

And dying –as always- was very low on her must-do list.

So Velaris just smiled at that infuriated and infuriating man and asked if there was anywhere where she could have a bath.

The rest, and _him_ , could wait.

* * *

He didn’t like her. She even asked him why he didn’t like her, and he had paused for a moment, regarded her coolly with those intense eyes of his and then bit out that he didn’t know her enough not to like her. He just didn’t trust her.

 _Okay_ , she thought, _Valen baby, you have all the time in the world to get to know me_. _I bet I’ll enjoy that._

They set off into the vast cavern that was the Underdark, a world of its own, and tried to concentrate on the tasks ahead: weaken the Valsharosomebody’s army and find allies to bolster their own ranks. Nathyrra had some very cheery propositions for her: battle a hive of beholders, a colony of mind-flayers, and find out where all her lovely undead minions were coming from. _Oh, goody_. She absolutely didn’t know _what_ to pick first.

Valen suggested going to a strange island in search of allies, and then another island full of golems.

Oh, double goody. Because she hadn’t been on an island vacation in simply _ages_.

She sighed, took a look to her two companions with a defeated look and then to Deekin that was jumping up and down, barely resisting yelling “pick Deekin, Boss, pick Deekin.” But she opted to leave her little ray-of-sunshine-run-at-the-mouth kobolt behind. These two, Nathyrra and Valen, might not like her, might not trust her as far as they could throw her, but hey, one was a drow and the other was...eye-candy. Definitely a better frontal and back view than Deekin’s. Her little kobolt might worship her like a god, but she’d rather look at that taut tiefling behind than Deekin’s scaly scrawny one.

And that tail, that damnable tail.

The way it swished form side to side like a pendulum; she was getting hypnotized by it. As they set off in search of the undead first, the threat she felt more capable of handling, her mind started being swamped by ideas of just what that tail could do; it seemed remarkably agile, and more than once she noticed its owner used it like another hand, picking up things with it, touching it to the cold rock as if he could read the damned path with it in the dark, using it to wipe the sweat off the back of his neck.

It made her wonder just how agile that tail was and what else he could use it for.

But then the owner of that intriguing tail would turn his mistrusting gaze to her and her lewd thoughts would shrivel up and die.

Valen didn’t like her. He didn’t trust her. He barely tolerated her. It didn’t matter that he used that throaty, rough voice of his to mutter “I am yours to command” whenever she addressed him, sending little shivers down her spine, because from the expression in those crystalline eyes it was more than obvious: Valen would rather whip her with that tail.

Not that she would mind, of course.

He was miffed with her about something and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of what it might be; she hadn’t said anything overly idiotic –yet- and she hadn’t kicked any stray puppies in his presence. And best she could remember, the last time she had eaten goat was ages ago- not that...okay, but those _were_ goat horns on his head.

She puzzled over that, until the chance came for her to find out. He had started talking to her and he told her he was a tiefling, okay, she already knew that, not that she would admit she had no idea what it meant. The confusion on her face must have shown because he had asked if she knew what a tiefling was, looking at her with a slightly self-conscious hint of uncertainty in those stunning eyes of his.

“Someone with a handsome set of horns?” she had cheekily smiled and had to actually restrain herself from going “awwww...” when he blushed adorably and touched his gloved hand to one of his curved horns.

“It means I have demonic blood,” he blushed some more. “Does that bother you?”

“I judge a man by his actions, not his blood, Valen,” a rare show of sincerity escaped her, mainly because she realised that the answer meant a lot to him. Being of mixed blood herself, she was not going to be one to hold a man’s heritage over his head. “Besides,” she smiled cheekily, “that probably means you’re a real demon in bed. I like that in a man.” She winked at him. “I really, _REALLY_ , like that in a man,” she purred and then blew him a kiss.

The blush she left behind as she sauntered away matched his hair _so, so_ nicely.

* * *

When they returned to the Seer’s camp in Lith My'athar she had had enough. Of him and that ever twitching tail, of the Underdark and all the bogeymen living therein. Vampires? Huge undead skeletal dragons? Come on!

She was nicked, cut, bruised, tired, hungry, dirty – Gods, the dirt would never come off- and she wanted to kick that damn tiefling in the shin because he’d made her furious and horny at the same time.

She’d had up to her eyeballs with his constant snarky remarks of ‘what made her so special’ and ‘whether you can fight remains to be seen’ and all that mistrust, delivered in his hoarse, rusty baritone, and with that tail punctuating every word.

Damned demon-spawn!

She half-wanted to shut him up with a kiss, damn him, and grab him by those horns and find other uses for that mouth of his. She then half-wanted to use that tail of his to strangle him. She wasn’t sure what she wanted more.

As a reaction, she had resorted to her usual snarky, witty, promiscuous humour and had delighted in making him roll his eyes, blush, and growl at her. Especially when she’d told him he looked as if he would be fun to tame and his eyes had flashed red as he’d told her he was not an animal for her to play with.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” she had smiled back and watched enthralled as that tail had risen up, along with a blush that spread up his corded neck to paint his cheeks.

He had mumbled something about her being the most confusing female he had ever met and Nathyrra had chuckled and pulled her aside and told her to just tackle him to the ground and deal with all that tension because it was making her skin tingle.

“...and pay attention to that tail,” the drow had also whispered. “I have noticed our stone-faced general reveals much of his emotions through it. It is involuntary, I imagine, but his tail rises up when he is talking to you.”

Velaris had laughed at that.

She hoped his tail wasn’t the _only_ thing going up.

* * *

She took Deekin with her next, when they went over the river to visit that strange golem island, and she was glad to, because the place was filled with traps. After all, seeing Deekin trek next to her impossibly tall, deadly tiefling, walking double time to match his strides, was fun.

But the singing wasn’t.

Valen’s had gritted his teeth strongly enough for her to actually hear the adamantine crack as he asked the kobolt about the damned Doom song, and if it was an elaborate way to make their enemies completely bonkers. Deekin’s naïve answer  had the tiefling’s eyes flash red and Valen must have chipped a tooth or two as he warned Deekin that he couldn’t take the rhyme out of his brain, it was driving him crazy, in which case Deekin’s brains was in serious danger of getting splattered on the dungeon floor.

She laughed and told Valen to just sing along, because there was no shutting the kobolt up, she had tried. Gods she had tied.

Unfortunately, Valen raised an eyebrow, curled his lip in a derisive half-smile, and told her “As you wish”.

Damn. Her and her big mouth.

“Doom, doodoom, doom, doom, doomity-doom doom, we is DOOMED!” Deekin would sing, and minutes later Valen would pick up the tune, rolling his eyes at himself, and start going “ta-da-ta-da” in his deep, throaty voice, over and over again.

Oh, someone hit her over the head with a mallet, already.

Valen was an ever worse singer that Deekin, and she never thought to live to see the day to say that.

And as if that wasn’t enough, her chatty sword was especially chatty this time.

She threatened Enserric that she was going to stuff him back into his ‘smelly scabbard’ if he didn’t stop complaining that golems tasted like crap, and the damned longsword had chuckled that he would mind that, provided she used lubrication.

That was the first time she heard Valen laugh.

That husky, rusty chuckle that had obviously hadn’t been used in ages thrilled her down to her toes, made the fine hairs at the back of the neck rise and _curl_.

_Damn him._

His tail had wrapped around his torso, resting across his stomach, as if to hold the laugh back. 

Damn him and that damned tail. She wanted to grab hold of it and pull him to her and fucking tickle him until he laughed so hard that tears run down his face.

She bit her lip.

Fuck.

She was falling for the tiefling.

_Fuck, fuck, triple fuck. Not good. Not good at all._

She stubbornly shoved Enserric into his scabbard –no lubrication included- ignored his indignant ‘oh, ouch, ouch, ouchie’ and his snarky comment that the inside of the scabbard smelled absolutely fetid and grabbed the hammer she had found that had an added enchantment against constructs.

Valen had given a hesitant half-smile, his brow furrowing in confusion over her uncustomary frown, but she paid him no heed and motioned for them to proceed.

The singing started again. Deekin first, then Valen.

Oh, brother!

* * *

She wasn’t prepared for another round of singing bad enough to wither her ears, so she returned to the Seer’s camp to drop Deekin off and pick up Nathyrra before going off to check out the strange town on that island. And while she was in camp she decided to get neck deep in shit, as usual, this time in the form of drow politics. She helped a daughter kill her mother, marvelling at the warm fuzzies that seemed to be going around drow families. _How utterly domestic_ , she thought. _You have as many daughters as possible so that you can watch them kill each other. The one that remains is probably the one to do you in too. Lovely._

She had been walking up ahead a few steps, checking for drow and traps and-shudder!- driders, when he heard Valen talking to Nathyrra. She slowed her step ever so slightly, not wanting to be noticed eavesdropping like an old fishwife, and held her breath.

Valen was asking Nathyrra about something the drow women at the camp were saying about him. He had a blush spreading, again. She was beginning to think the only two expressions he was capable of were scowls and blushes.

She focused once more.

“I thought I was proficient in drow,” Valen was saying, “but...errmm...I don’t understand that.” He noticed her watching them then, blushed some more and then leaned in to whisper something in Nathyrra’s ear.

The drow laughed, and then smiled lewdly. “Well, the first part I am sure you recognize,” she said and Valen nodded apprehensively, visibly awkward. “The second part,” Nathyrra pointed to his sinewy tail, “refers to that.”

Valen’s brow creased in confusion, and then his eyes blew open in surprise. “Oh. Oh,...ahhh, I see.”

A slow smirk spread on Velaris’ face.

“So I am not the only one wondering about that,” she said and then sauntered near them, laughing inwardly at that deer-circled-by-wolves look on Valen’s face. His tail had wrapped around his muscular thigh, as if it was hiding, embarrassed by the attention. Velaris drew a fingertip across its tip, barely touching it, ghosting over the leathery skin and Valen’s eyes grew even wider, before his pupils dilated and his breath caught.

A second later his legendary self-control was back in place and –what surprise- he scowled at her, muttered something about not being a plaything for her and stormed off.

And right into a nest of dridders.

As she rushed after him, frantically twirling her swords, Enserric shouting ‘Foul tasting thing! Hit it again!’, all she could think about was the bite she had just seen him receive on that corded neck of his. The panic rushing through her fuelled her with adrenaline, and confirmed her fear.

She wasn’t falling for the tiefling; she had _already_ fallen.

Damn, damn, triple damn!

 

* * *

 

“So how exactly do you battle Beholders?” she asked Valen, trekking behind him and Nathyrra in the vast darkness.

“Very carefully,” Valen replied, his usual snarky sarcasm curling his lip. “They have incredibly powers- their eyes can shoot forth rays that can paralyse, disintegrate, turn to stone, burn or ice you. Be careful of them.”

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” she smirked and Valen swallowed down a chuckle then turned to her with the first genuine smile she had seen on his handsome face, one that made his crystalline eyes twinkle.

It gave her hope that the scowling phase might be coming to an end, and gave her the courage she had been trying to find to ask him some questions that she’d just been aching to ask.

But just then, he turned to her and asked “What makes you so special?”

Her answer was a surprised huh? Special? Her?

“Besides my charm and beauty, General Shadowbreath?” she finally mustered a small cheeky smile, though warning bells were going off inside her.

“You have both these qualities in abundance, my Lady,” his intense eyes seemed to bore into her soul, “but that is not what I am referring to. I speak of course of the fact that you have replaced me as head of our forces.”

She looked around her, eyes comically wide. “Forces? You’re pulling my leg, right? What forces?”

He seemed to resist for just a second before his serious face broke for just an instance into that small smile that seemed to be struggling to come out more and more. He finally rolled his eyes and went on to explain to her his misgivings about the Seer placing all her faith in her, and asking her what she would do when the time came to fight for all their lives.

Sheesh. Drama queen!

She chose not to be sarcastic and witty for once and ended up asking him if he would like her oath that she wouldn’t betray them. That only got her an intense stare and his whispered admission that enough had been asked of her already, and he wouldn’t force her to swear anything- not if she didn’t want to.

Cue what must have been the fourth- or maybe fifth- truly serious moment of her life. Humour bled and died as she drew up to her full height (which wasn’t much) and fixed him with a stare just as intense as his.

“I swear, by my own free will, or what I have left of it, that I will not abandon the Seer and the rebels and will fight by their side till my end. Satisfied?”

He visibly drew back, surprised by the force of the sentiment in her words, before his eyes grew warm, and he gave her a respectful nod.

“Then I will fight by your side till my very last breath, my lady,” he brought his hand, and his tail, to his heart.

She became “my lady” from there on.

An improvement, to be sure. Just not _exactly_ what she wanted.

She had left the really important part of her oath out, after all. _I will fight by your side_ , she had meant to say, but...

Damn it, when she was smitten, her tongue sometimes refused to cooperate.

* * *

But things seemed to get better between them after that. Valen was still his usual broody, snarky self, she even got some glimpses of his frightful temper, but he was more relaxed towards her, and seemed to slowly be gaining a healthy amount of respect and appreciation for her. It started with her skills as a rogue-she hadn’t gained her reputation of being one of the best swashbucklers ever for nothing, after all. Her ability to yield twin longswords as if they were extension of her arms was almost legendary by now, and Valen seemed to be fascinated by it. He asked her if she had been amphidexterous from birth or if it was a skill she had cultivated and when she explained it waste latter, he had again and again asked her to demonstrate her training regime for him. He was obviously impressed and even asked her to show him some moves- him, the dreaded General Shadowbreath, that stroke fear even in the hearts of drow warriors. She had been charmed and flattered by his interest and the very obvious admiration in his eyes.

It didn’t stay there, though, something she was infinitely grateful for. He started to appreciate her witty, cheeky humour and his own dry, deadpan jabs started becoming more and more frequent. He blushed at her innuendoes less and less, too, instead, by the time they had managed to deal with the beholders, the expression on his face when she gave him her winks and sometimes risqué little teases was...interested, for lack of another word.

They had soon traded stories and he told her all about his time in the Abyss, fighting in the Blood Wars, his escape and how he had come to be at the Seer’s side, pausing from time to time to boink Deekin on the head when the kobolt stopped his furious scribbling to ask an embarrassing or downright awkward question.

He was also fascinated by her sword, Enserric, and often laughed at his dry sarcastic humour, at the “I love the taste of elf blood in the morning, oh yes!” and “foul tasting thing! Hit it again!”  He asked Enserric about how he had managed to get stuck in a sword, and the blade had sighed and muttered something about outsiders being pesky and  tricky and tasting weird, and asked Valen if he had nothing better to do than chat up a freaking sword, for the sake of all that was holy.

“You know, she has a fine grip, if you get my drift,” the spirit trapped in the sword drawled to Valen and then added “nudge, nudge, wink, wink, and all that. Far be it from me to point it out, but it’s dark and cosy around here, take a hint, will you?”

She wanted to kiss Enserric for that, and she made sure she polished his blade extra carefully as they sat around the small campfire in one of the beholder caves. The damned sword made Valen blush to a fine crimson red, as he moaned and purred at her attention saying things like “ah, yes, like this. Now a bit lower. Now to your left. No no, a bit to the right. Yes, there. You do know how to work a shaft, girl, now rub a bit faster.”

Her eyes met Valen’s gaze over the fire and she swore his eyes flashed red for just an instance before he looked away. That single molten look, that single second of eye contact, his expression suddenly feral and hungry, was enough to make her cream her smalls; her attention slipped and she nicked her finger on her blade.

“Hmmm...” Enserric purred. “Earthy, not too salty, with a slight undertone of girliness. Just yummy.”

She thought she caught a barely whispered “I bet” coming from the other side of the fire, but she couldn’t be sure.

She dreamt of him that night, his corded, heavily muscled body covering her, the pleasure of his hands and tongue and tail on her body, his eyes flashing red as he taught her how demons make love in her sleep. She woke up drenched in sweat and wet down to her knees, hot and bothered, and his eyes met hers as she flustered to sidetrack Deekin’s question as to whether her belly ached, because she had been making some strange moaning and groaning sounds in her sleep.

She looked at Valen out of the corner of her eye, and caught a tense smile on his face. And she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw him adjust the fit of his tight leather trousers at some point.

That damned tail was pointing straight up.

* * *

An apology. She actually got an apology from Valen. _Be still my beating heart_ , she thought, trekking behind him, her mind still reeling from his words. _A fucking apology_. By Valen.

“I have been wrong about you,” he had said. “I owe you an apology.”

She had stumbled and nearly fallen, her surprise making her usual grace almost non-existent. Valen had pursed his lips not to laugh. “Ever since the Seer had foretold your arrival, I resented you a little,” he went on. “There you were, taking over, and suddenly I was...redundant, after having fought for so long to keep the Seer safe. I wanted to be the one to save them all, I wanted to be...” he had looked away for a second, obviously ashamed of himself. “I wanted to be the hero that would save them all. I treated you unfairly, and for that I am deeply sorry.”

She had looked at him with gratitude warming her from the inside. “That must have hurt to admit, general Shadowbreath,” she had finally said, at loss for words to express how much his heart-felt apology had meant to her.

“You’ll never know,” he had admitted with a small self-mocking smile and unable to resist, she had grabbed on to his corded forearm as he was going past her. He had looked at her with a look bordering panic but she’d just smiled.

“For all it’s worth, you _are_ a hero, Valen. You have saved me more times I can recall. You are _my_ hero.”

She had then stretched on her toes and laid a kiss on his cheek, unable to resist the impulse, and she’d barely suppressed a sigh at the slow rumble that had vibrated his chest.

She turned back to look at him over her shoulder now. He had barely said a word. What was going through that brain of his under his horns? A wide grin broke out on her face to see him walking as if in a trance, his gaze focused inward, as he rubbed his gloved hand over the spot on the cheek she had kissed. Their eyes met, briefly, and she smiled at him; his gaze warmed, and he smiled back.

“Boooosss!” Deekin nasal voice made her attention snap away, and she glared at the kobolt.

“What, Deekin?”

“Deekin wonders, Boss...You likes the scary tiefling, Boss?”

She glanced to Valen, whose pointed ears seemed to suddenly be straining towards her, although he had a nonchalant expression on his face and pretended to be observing the rocks with intense concentration.

“Yes, Deekin, me likes,” she all but purred. “Me likes very much.”

“Because Deekin cans write you a love song, if that can helps.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like ‘my lady fair and true, how I want to feast on you, chew your bones and cook the rest, and craft your skin into a vest’? I’m sorry Deekin, but your love songs are sadly lacking.”

She choked at Valen’s sudden answer, delivered in what could only be described as a seductive purr.

“I don’t know, my Lady. You do look good enough to... _eat_.”

Oh, ye gods and little fishes. There went her smalls. Again.

* * *

She had hoped they would take it from there when they returned to the camp at Lith My'athar but apparently, the Valsharess had other plans. As soon as she had stepped foot in the city, a guard rushed to tell her that the Seer needed her, and she was given the dire news that the drow army was already marching on them.

With barely a few hours to organise their defences, she didn't get a single chance to exchange more than a few words with Valen, unless it was to discuss battle strategies. She had this nagging feeling of things being left unsaid, but time was precious, and as she gave orders everybody scrambled to obey, she could only spare a look of frustration his way.

Damn it. They could both die and she would never know if there was any chance of taking things further between them. Nathyrra laid a hand on her shoulder as they both watched him go, obeying her request to return to the city core and protect the Seer.

“Come, my friend,” the drow assassin said. “He will be fine. General Shadowbreath is the most capable warrior I have ever laid eyes on, for a male. There will be time later.”

But there hadn't been.

Once they had managed to drive the Valsharess’ forces back, they had immediately taken the offensive, marching against her fortress, barely pausing to look after the wounded and hastily gather supplies and ammunition. As in a daze, they marched across the vast darkness; there was no time to speak to him, nor any privacy to do so.

She managed to find some time to rest before the big battle at the fortress’ doors, and that annoying Vallsharessomething had the gall to visit her dreams again, offering her an alliance, trying to entice her to betray the rebels with promises of power and wealth. She nearly laughed in the woman’s face. Her, betray the rebels? No. She had taken an oath. And even if she hadn't, and the geas hadn't been placed on her, she would never disappoint Valen like that.

By the nine hells, she had spit blood to gain his trust, she wasn’t about to lose it now.

And funnily enough, the nine hells, well, the eighth one, really, was where she ended up in.

He had warned her, damn him, that there might be someone more powerful hiding behind the Drow Queen. The signs had been there. That Deva she had rescued had said she had been sent to warn somebody that the visions she had been seeing had not been sent by the gods, that someone sinister was meddling with them. How hadn't she put two and two together?

Mephistopheles. Crap. A lord of the nine Hells, free on Torril, and she had been the tool that had set him free, her and that damned relic of the Reaper that she had been so grateful for.

The last thing she thought of as her spirit left her body was Valen.

She had failed him.

 

* * *

 

The Reaper was apologetic. He claimed he had been ordered not to reveal to her the connection between the relic and Mephistopheles, and his hooded head had bowed in sadness when he admitted he could not send her back.

Technically she had died.

Oh, goody.

Where were her companions? She held her breath as the Gate Keeper searched for them and nearly startled bawling when he told her they had died. Something cracked in her chest; Gods, not Valen. Not Nathyrra. Not her little Deekin. Grief flooded her. She hadn't even kissed that damned teifling’s scowling mouth and now she never would.

So when the Reaper asked her if she wanted him to bring them back to her, she just blinked at him and then nearly started jumping up and down. She brought Deekin to her first, the little kobolt confused and bewildered, but delighted to be at her side. Nathyrra was less enthusiastic about being in the Hells, but she was pleased to see her, as well.

She kept Valen last, because she missed him the most. Did that make any sense? She kept him last, because she still feared the Reaper was messing with her head when he told her he could bring them all back. When the tiefling materialised in front of her, confused and looking around, trying to get his bearings, she held back for about two seconds before she leapt at him, threw her arms around his shoulders, and all but climbed on him to look into his beautiful eyes with a bright smile. He stood perfectly still, apprehensive and confused, before his arms came up to hold her, hesitantly at first, more firmly with every ticking second, and then a smile uncurled on his chiselled face.

“Miss me, I see, my Lady.”

She pecked a little kiss on his lips then blushed and clambered off him, smiling self-consciously. Nathyrra was softly chuckling and Deekin was scratching his scaly head, commenting that the Boss hadn't kissed him; was she not happy to see him too?

“You are not a six foot something blue-eyed, firm-assed piece of tail-swinging male hunkiness, Deekin,” the drow told the little kobolt.

Velaris whole-heartedly agreed.

As they exited the  Gatehouse, a new goal set before them, to find the Reaper’s True Name and thus command him to let them back to Torril, the first thing that hit her was how cold it was. This was the eighth hell of Baator, damn it, hell wasn’t supposed to be freezing cold.

After a little bit of snooping around, she found out there was a person called the Sleeping Man, who might have been able to put them on the right track, the only problem was that the Sleeping Man was...well...sleeping. A gith sensei guarded the path, and told them they had to learn the five-fold mysteries of the Sleeping Man- whom Velaris decided to call Droopy from there on- before they could be allowed to peer into his brain.

Plus, a little frog slash dog slash something creature wanted them to help it carve the name of one of the dead on a wall, and led them on a merry-go-round ride around the place, offering riddles for them to solve to Deekin’s everlasting enjoyment. It turned out the lost soul was none other than Aribeth de Tylmarrane, the Betrayer of Neverwinter, and when they managed to save her from turning into a permanent ice  sculpture she offered to go with them.

Thanks, but no thanks. There was something fairly ominous about being called the Betrayer; it just screamed that this woman would one day...well...betray her. No. It was enough of a hen party with her and Nathyrra already. She didn't need another female ogling her tiefling.

They were about to go into the relative safety and heat of the tavern-a tavern in the Hells, imagine that- when Valen coughed to get her attention. Velaris waved Nathyrra and Deekin in from the cold and turned to him, only to find him more nervous than she had ever seen him, almost fidgeting in place.

“Yes, Valen? What is it?”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment before continuing, and the uncertainty in his eyes made warning bells start ringing inside her. Her tiefling was a lot of things; temperamental, broody, snarky, sometimes aloof and overly guarded, but unsure of himself? No, not her Valen.

“We might meet our end at any time now, and...and there is something I’d like to get off my chest.”

She was almost afraid to ask.

“What is that?” she held her breath, suddenly afraid he was going to confide his love for another woman to her...damn it, could it be Nathyrra? Or the Seer? It had to be the Seer. That white haired, pointy-eared BITCH! She should have known...he was fiercely protective of her...

His next words soothed her fears and made a little flicker of hope flare brighter.

“We haven’t known each other for very long...but, in the time we have come to spend together, I have...” Valen drew a deep, calming breath before his eyes bore into hers with that intense crystalline look of his, “I...have come to feel quite close to you.”

She gave him an impish smile. “Take that armour off and we can come even closer.”

He chuckled, but she caught on to how his eyes darkened a little and how he swallowed heavily at the suggestion. And how that damned tail started pointing straight up.

“I am serious, my Lady.”

She sighed, then rolled her eyes and stepped closer. “I am serious as well, Valen.”

His eyes fell to her mouth. “Devils take me, I had a nice little speech prepared, Velaris. About my life being all pain and despair and never hoping to find anything more to aspire to other than regaining my humanity, and how you are something better I have to aspire to...”

She cut him off with a kiss, tender and chaste, her lips playing softly over his. He sighed and wrapped his brawny arms around her, moaned into the kiss, and his tail come up to cup her face as he looked deep, deep into her eyes. “I love you, my Lady. With all my heart. With all I am.”

Joy exploded in her heart and she pulled back to look at him. “I am not a lady, Valen. And I love you too. Now shut up and kiss me properly.”

He chuckled and an evil glint lit up his eyes before his tail slid to the back of her head to draw her closer to him. “As my love commands,” he murmured, his voice husky, and then leaned in, kissing her with all the fire that was missing from this freezing, desolate place.

Time stood still. His mouth was hot and hungry, and he kissed the way no man should kiss and still be allowed to run free. His scent was as warm and musky as sex, filling her lungs, permeating her skin. He put one big hand on her bottom and lifted her off her feet, aligning their bodies more completely, groin to groin.

She moaned his name, certain that the ice of Cania would start melting around them any minute.  Gods, there was a nicely-sized bulge on the front of his trousers, and she rubbed against it, the frustrated tension in her aching centre climbing higher and higher. Valen broke away from the kiss, panting heavily, his eyes flashing red, and rested his forehead against hers.

“I will not take you for the first time in the Hells of Baator,” he rasped, trying to catch his breath, but his hips kept making those rolling little thrusts, and she mewled, ready to climax at the spot. “You deserve more, my lady.”

That gave her pause; she looked into his eyes, pored over his face, took in the love and desire that was darkening his eyes. He really did love her. Oh, Gods. He really did. This was not a cheap thrill for him; these were not words he had offered in hopes of ‘scoring’ with her. He could have had her here, on the cold ice, she wasn’t going to resist him, but he...her heart melted into a warm puddle of goo, and she sniffled a little then kissed him tenderly on his delectable mouth.

“Say it again,” she whispered against his mouth and a happy, joyous little chuckle escaped him, before he smiled at her and then leaned in to whisper that he loved her in her ear, with that molten caramel voice of his.

“Again,” she commanded.

“I love you.”

“Once more.”

“I. LOVE. YOU.”

“One last time, I promise.”

Valen laughed. “My la...Velaris, you are incorrigible.”

“But you love me regardless, right?”

He nodded then linked his hand with hers. “Not regardless, my love. Because of it.”

* * *

The five fold mysteries of Droopy the Sleeping Man were a bitch to find, but find them she did. Who was he? A planetar, a creature of good. Where did he hail from? Good thing Valen remembered the answer because she forgot it as soon as she learned it. Why had he left his home? Because his heart knew no love. Well, boohoohoo. How sad. And what did he look for? His one true love.

Awww...poor Droopy. She snuck a look to Valen. Hell, yeah, she could understand that.

She will meet you at the Gates of Cania, the Knower of Places had told Droopy. And bingo, that was what they wanted, the little light at the end of her tunnel. If there was a Knower of Places out there, she could point her in the direction of the Knower of Names, and she could learn the Reaper’s True Name and command him to let her back to Torril.

Yay for little miracles.

A ring she got from a rudely awakened Sleeping Man was supposed to show her the way. The big bright purple arrows she could see on the snow whenever she put it on where a dead give-away, after all. She looked at her companions, carefully contemplating her options; Valen was going, there was no holding him back, but she couldn’t take both Nathyrra and Deekin along, there were not enough provisions for both of them.

She opted to leave Nathyrra back, in the relative safety of the Gatehouse and smiled apologetically at her. Nathyrra just smiled conspiratorially, and asked her if she wasn’t sure she didn't want to take just Valen with her.

“Oh, no,” Deekin answered for her, “Boss musts take Deekin too, to keeps her safe from big scary tiefling.”

Nathyrra had pursed her lips at the look Valen and Velaris exchanged.

“He is a heavy sleeper,” Velaris whispered to Valen.

Her tiefling smiled tensely then petted his mace. “A gentle nudge to the head, that is all it will take, my love. Just say the word.”

He then shot Deekin a threatening look and went ahead to scout the way, while the kobolt scratched his head.

“Emmm...Boss? Why the tiefling calls you love?”

 

* * *

 

Of course nothing good in life was easy, she should have known. There were guardians along the path, and wicked little surprises too. That damned amulet the sensei had given her gave her a nasty little shock when she transformed, right smack down in the middle of battle, into a tiny little fairy, then a wolf, then a rock golem. Surely, it would come in handy, but being turned into a fairy while carrying around all that junk wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Deekin had teased her mercilessly later, imitating how she had tumbled to the ground, wings flapping helplessly. She had huffed and barely –just barely, mind you- resisted the urge to wipe that half smile of Valen’s face by kicking him in the shin. He had leant in to whisper that her new forms might have some _advantages_ beyond the obvious and just like that, _bam_ , her mind had gone down decisively wicked avenues, which was what her previously bashful tiefling had just intended, if his wicked grin was any indication.

But there was no time, and no place to pursue such fantasies, as the path was fraught with danger, ice trolls and wolves and that damn incapacitating cold.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked Valen, miffed that he seemed almost unconcerned with the freezing temperature.

“My demonic blood grants me some resistance to the cold,” Valen muttered, as they cleaned their weapons on the snow after yet another encounter with ice trolls. “And creates a host of other problems, of course.”

She gave him a glance, which soon turned into an inquisitive stare as she saw how tensely he was suddenly holding himself.

“Is something the matter, Valen?”

 “We’re in the Hells,” he commented.

“What was your first clue?” she joked, trying to make that smile bloom on his face again, the one that had come to warm her more than a raging fire. There was definitely something troubling him, though, because the snarkiness in her voice flew completely over his head. She took a few steps closer to him, truly concerned now.

“I have been here before actually. This...this might be a problem, Velaris,” his voice dropped. “I am tanar’ri and this is Baator, full of baatezu.”

She blinked. “Run that by me again, but in common this time.”

“This...this is not easy for me,” he turned to look at her, and she noticed his voice seemed pained, while his eyes were glowing a dull red. “I feel my blood rebelling against me the more we stay here.”

She blinked, totally confused.

He rolled his eyes. “I am a tiefling with demon blood and this place is full of devils. The Blood Wars, remember?”

She looked around in alarm, her hand going to Enserric’s hilt. “Will they try to harm you?”

Valen’s lip curled into an amused half smile. “You are worried for me? No need. I can take care of myself.” He then rubbed one hand against one of his horns before wiping the sweat that had suddenly pearled on his brow. “What I am afraid of is losing control, of reverting back to the blood crazed mindless killer I had been while I was still in the Abyss. The call of my blood...it screams to destroy anything Baatezu.”

She rested a hand against his cheek, peering deep into his eyes. “Will you be able to hold out?”

The hand on his face and her eyes locked with his seemed to ground him. He drew a couple of deep, calming breaths. “I believe so...I think so. Hells, I hope so. I hate to think of...”He looked away then bent his head. “Perhaps...perhaps you should leave me behind, my love... I might be a danger to you.”

“Don’t be absurd, love. I’m not leaving you behind. Ever.”

He looked ashamed at her words, and she realised with a jolt that he had been afraid she would leave him behind. He eyebrows knitted together. “Valen, did you really think I would be afraid of you?”

A blush spread and he looked to his boots, chastised. “I am sorry for doubting you, my love. I would not leave you willingly if I had the choice.”

She sighed then stretched on her tiptoes to reach his mouth and kiss him slowly, tenderly, just a hint of her tongue caressing the seam of his lips.

“If you think you might be losing control, tell me,” she muttered, a soft sigh escaping her. “I’ll think of _something_ to distract you.”

She felt him shiver at the promise in her words. “Not the best incentive to make me hold on to my control, you minx,” he whispered, his eyes flashing bright red before he kissed the end of her nose and smiled tersely. “Let us be off. The sooner we are out of here, the better. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe Deekin cans sings the Doom Song if Valen loses control,” the kobolt that had been watching them with avid interest interrupted. “Doom Song is very good at distracting people.”

“Maybe Deekin cans shuts up, if he doesn’t wants to meet Devil’s Bane up close and personal,” Valen countered.

“Maybe Boss cans kiss Valen some mores. Valen is much nicer when he’s being kissed by the Boss.”

“Maybe Deekin cans starts running now,” Valen took a threatening step forward, reaching for the hilt of his mace.

Velaris slapped a hand on her face as Deekin screeched and started running around, shouting “Deekin runs, but why Deekin runs? Deekin not knows. Is this some demon mating ritual? Deekin is glad to helps.”

Why, oh why, hadn't she taken Nathyrra?

* * *

She should have stayed away from that damned crystal. There must have been a sign somewhere that clearly warned against peering into strange crystals placed right down smack into the wilderness of Cania, but she seemed to have missed it.

What she had seen...Gods.

Mephistopheles had reached the rebel camp. She saw people she knew being struck down like clay puppets under an iron hammer, reduced to ashes and dust with a careless flick of a wrist. She saw Commander Imloth being struck down while he valiantly held back a host of drow warriors. She saw faces she had come to know being melted like wax. She saw the Seer fleeing for her life.

He had grown to love the rebels, and she found herself looking on, locked into this frozen, desolate hell, as people she had come to care about perished at the hand of the Archdevil that had used her to get free.

The mood was sombre as the made camp that night.

Velaris stared into the fire, still fighting off tears. The enormity of what she had undertaken was suddenly upon her, making her feel small and useless. So much death, so much meaningless loss of life, of good, decent people, people that were determined to put their lives on the stake for the good of others. And little old her, an opportunist by nature, tasked with saving them all.

Valen was staring at her from across the fire, willing her to just look at him, but for the first time she was ashamed to do so.

She had failed them all.

His gaze fixed on her with that intense, unwavering focus again, taking in her trembling lip, the uncertainty in her eyes. He moved closer, inching on his bedroll almost unperceptively, and slipped a hand in hers. She looked up, grateful for the support. Damn it, she needed him. She needed to feel alive, she needed the confirmation that she was living and that she would manage to get them all out of this frozen hellhole and back to where the grass was green and the sun was bright and joyous. How long had it been since she hadn’t seen the sun? She missed it.

She bowed her head again, feeling utterly disheartened.

Valen sighed.

“Deekin,” he addressed the kobolt, “I have a very important assignment for you.”

The bored kobolt raised its scaly head to the warrior with a hopeful puppy dog look in his eyes. Without taking his eyes off Velaris’ face for a second, Valen dug around in his pocket for three velox berries and handed them to the kobolt.

“I do not like the fact that there is another entrance to the cave, Deekin,” he told the kobolt. “I need someone trustworthy to camp near the other entrance and keep watch. Do you think you can handle it, my intrepid kobolt hero?”

Deekin shot to his feet with an excited yelp. “Oh, yes!” he screeched. “Deekin cans do that! Deekin be the best guard ever! No worries!” He then faltered a little and a scared look came over his eyes. “But what should Deekin does if baddies appear?”

“Sing the Doom Song.”

“Right. Off me goes then!” Deekin grabbed the berries and his backpack and scampered off, excited and scared and his chest puffing with pride at the responsibility that had been given him.

Velaris raised her head to watch him go and then shot a slightly puzzled look to Valen. “Why did you...”

She didn’t get a chance to voice her question. Valen scooped her up, armour and all, and settled her on his lap. Unaccustomed to him being so bold she yelped in surprise, then sighed as his head dipped and he run his talented tongue over the soft skin of her neck, trailing licks and kisses up her pale flesh until he reached her chin.

“Valen...” she moaned. “What...oh, Gods. What are you doing?”

“Distracting you from whatever thoughts are troubling you, my love,” he groaned in her ear and then his hands started nimbly unclasping the buckles that were holding her armour in place. She squeaked in shock, then melted in his arms. A hand sneaked in under her loosened armour, his calloused fingers touching the soft skin of her belly for the first time. She whimpered in need, in surrender, and arched in invitation, longing for that hand to trail even higher.

“What about Deekin?” she asked, breathless now as his mouth nibbled under her chin, sending little tremors of desire spiralling through her body. “He might hear us.”

“I care not,” he groaned, his hoarse voice even thicker with yearning. “I need you. And you need me.”

His tail came up to cradle her face, the leathery, warm skin rasping against her cheek and she nuzzled into it, and then opened lust-fogged eyes to stare into his; intense crystalline blue fogged into purple as his demonic blood took over, then flashed bright crimson. He barred his teeth at her, then claimed her in a kiss that was brutal, wickedly hot; his taste flooded her mouth, rich as heady wine, making her senses spin. She moaned into his mouth and her own hands came up to battle with the clasps of his armour.

“Hurry,” he whispered and a shudder went through her at the way the urgency in his voice fired her body up, shot darts of desire down to her loins, making her instantly wet and ready for him. Excitement made her forget her worries and fear, turned her wanton in his arms. She mewled her desire for him, then crawled higher up on his lap, straddling his thighs to grind her suddenly burning centre on the bulge that was tending his breeches to near bursting.

He groaned and threw his head back and she held on to his curved horns while her mouth attacked the bulging tendons of his corded neck, licking the slight saltines of his skin and inhaling the musky, totally male scent of his excitement.

“DOOM, doom, DOOOOOOOM!” a faint panicky shout reached them, jolting them back to reality, followed by the sound of bolts being fired and they both jumped to their feet, furiously buckling loosed clasps again before they rushed off to the kobolt’s aid. Valen shot her a look over his shoulder as they ran, his eyes flashing red for just an instance.

“This isn’t over,” he growled, then adjusted the painful fit of his leather trousers.

Her body still tingling, her mind still reeling with pleasure, she threw her head back and laughed.

Oh, Gods, she hoped not.

* * *

Velaris was not a woman of little experience. She had seen some strange-ass shit in her life, including a medusa, a flying city and ants that could talk, to name but a few. But this...this was too much even for her.

A chest that moved around on its own, and grabbed the clothes off the back of unsuspecting travellers? Come on!

As she stood there, in nothing but her underwear, watching that damned chest scurry off, all she could do was gape, and stutter.

Deekin and Valen both hooted with laughter.

Her rightful indignation fuelling her temper, she whirled on Valen, unconcerned with the state of her address and finally -finally!- kicked him in the shin.

He jumped around on one foot, his hoarse laughter still booming.

“It’s not funny!” she raved. “Stop laughing, damn you! I’m cold!”

His eyes roamed over her, coming to rest for a moment on the nipples that had stood proudly up because of the cold, then trailing down her legs and then up again, zeroing in on those pert nipples again.

“I can see that,” he chortled, his gaze warming.

Velaris wrapped herself up in her cloak, shivering both from the cold and the heat and hungers that had started blazing in his eyes.

Deekin started running around again, and they both looked at him.

“What...what are you d-d-doing D-D-Deakin?”she struggled to ask, her teeth chattering from the cold.

Her attention was drawn away from the kobolt by a warm body wrapping around her. She sighed, the heat of Valen’s big body seeping into her, warming her from the inside out. She sighed and furrowed deeper into his warmth, wincing as her frigid skin met the metal of his armour. Valen’s large hands came to rest on her bottom and he pulled her towards him, a little moan escaping him, then wrapped both their cloaks around them. Underneath the cloth, his hands became more mobile, bolder, and her run one calloused hand up the length of her torso to cup one breast.

Time stood still again, grinding down to a halt as she looked into his eyes, breathed in his virile, musky scent, lost herself into that intense crystalline blue. His tail wrapped around her, holding the cloak in place and she sighed and went lax n his arms, burying her head in the crook of his neck. Between them, that calloused hand slipped underneath her breast band, and a thump rubbed against her flesh, sending a bolt of molten desire down to her core. She gasped, then moaned as he pinched and rolled and thrummed her flesh like a finely tuned lute.

“Deekin runs, runs, runs,” the kobolt sang. “Demons makes babies, Deekin runs, runs, ruuuunsss!”

She snickered into Valen’s flesh, delighting in the shudder that rocked his tall frame, in the rumbling purr that vibrated his chest.

“Tell your kobolt to make himself scarce,” his voice was almost unrecognisable in her ear, hoarse and gravely with desire, “or he’ll get a front row seat at exactly _how_ demons make babies.”

Apparently, his voice carried, because Deekin stopped, then blinked at them before he shot her a hesitant look.

“Booossss??” he whined, but Velaris was unable to respond, her mind lost in a haze of want as the tiefling’s mouth trailed down her throat. She just looked at the kobolt with eyes fogged by desire, her whole body trembling with lust, and mouthed ‘go’.

Valen waited only until the kobolt had wandered out of sight, before lowering her on the cold floor.

“I wanted to wait,” he fervently whispered, trembling head to toe like a stallion. “I wanted you in a bed. Hells take me, I can wait no more.”

He pushed her underwear down to her ankles, then rose up on his knees to remove his armour.

She gasped, her head arching back. "Here? Now?"

"I can't wait." That was nothing more than the hard truth. He couldn't wait until they were out of the hells, until they were in a soft bed, until they had politely removed themselves into a room in an inn somewhere, as if they werefollowing some script. He wanted her now, in the cold. Here, where their lives where still at stake, where her kobolt could hear her, where even the Hells would bear witness to his claim.

Velaris didn’t want to wait either, and suddenly, the floor didn’t seem as cold, the situation not as desperate, the road ahead not as uncertain. This was certainty, this was fire, this was life. She pulled him down to her by his curved horns as he lay on top of her and claimed his mouth in a hot, possessive kiss, drinking deeply from his mouth; the kiss was both life and despair and acceptance rolled in one. She moaned as he spread her legs and eased his weight down on her, settling into the notch of her open thighs, then she went very still, her eyes widening as she stared up at him.

Gods, he was large, larger than life, blistering hot against her tender flesh. She had wanted to watch his face as they joined for the first time, so she braced her hands against his massive shoulders and tried for some distance; she had wanted to be able to look into those crystalline eyes of his as they fogged over with bliss, and flashed red in desire, but any distance was too much; he grasped her hands in one of his and pulled them over her head, pinning them to the cloak underneath her and arching her breasts against him. With his free hand he reached between them and guided his hard length to the soft, wet entrance of her body.

Velaris quivered, helpless in his grasp. She had never before felt so vulnerable, or so alive. His passion wasn't uncontrolled and wild, the way she had expected; it was tender and careful, his control was as iron hard as the length she could feel probing against her opening.  He held her down, dwarfed her with his big muscular body, and she trembled as she waited for the hard thrust of penetration. She was ready for him, oh _, so ready_. She ached with need; she burned with it. She wanted to beg him to hurry, but she couldn't make her lungs work. He reached down, and she felt the brush of his knuckles between her legs, then the stiff, hot length of him pushing against her opening.

Everything in her seemed to tighten, coiling, focusing on that intimate intrusion. He hissed as he pushed inside her, slowly, tenderly, one careful inch after the other. Wild frustration filled her. She wanted him now, inside her, easing the ache and tension, stroking her into feverish pleasure.

She whispered his name, the urgency in her choked gasp palpable, but he shook his head, even as sweat bathed his body.

“Easy,” he bit out, then moaned. “Easy, love. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Velaris arched underneath him, the scant inches he had given her not enough to both stroke and put out the fires raging inside her. With a frustrated growl, she locked her legs around his and lifted her hips, fiercely impaling herself, taking him up to the hilt. She couldn't hold back the thin cry that tore from her throat. Shock robbed her muscles of strength, and she went limp on the cloak. Gods. He wasn’t just big. He was enormous.

He stood perfectly still, his eyes widening in alarm for her sake before they rolled backwards in bliss and a tortured groan slipped past his lips. He released her hands to cradle her in both arms. Velaris clung to his shoulders, holding as tight as she could, because without his strength she thought she might fly apart. She had taken lovers before, but this...this was so much more than her experience. She hadn’t realised a man could feel so thick and hot inside her, or go so deep. He was invading all of her, taking over her body and commanding its responses, even her breathing, her heartbeat, the flow of blood through her veins.

He moved gently at first, slowly, angling his body so he applied pressure where she needed it most. He did things to her with his hands, and that damned tail of his, stroking her, petting her, mapping every inch of her body. He kissed her, leisurely exploring her with his tongue. He touched her nipples, sucked them, nibbled on the side of her neck.

Every thrust inside her, careful and gentle, was like a dagger of pleasure twisting around in her gut. Every time he rolled his hips just so, she dissolved a little, a few more of her brain cells died from overstimulation. An overwhelming heat swept over her, and she heard herself panting. She could hear him chanting her name, she could feel the thundering of his heart against her chest and his heady, musky scent was enough to make her drunk. The cold ceased to exist, time stopped moving, reality stopped existing. Only his eyes were real, only his coiling body, only her heartbeat roaring in her ears as she climbed higher and higher.

She screamed his name, mewled that she loved him, swore that he was her everything, her very life, _her man_ , damn it, her own personal demon.

Valen whined, fighting for control, her fervent cries pushing him to his limit, before he pushed her legs farther apart and thrust deeper, harder, faster. Sensation exploded in her, abruptly convulsing her flesh. She writhed beneath him, unable to hold back the short, sharp cries that surged upward, past her constricted throat. The pounding rhythm wouldn't let the spasms abate; they kept shuddering through her until she was sobbing, fighting him, wanting release, wanting more, and finally—when his hard body stiffened and he pulled out to come on her stomach, shuddering and moaning softly- wanting nothing.

In the distance, she could hear Deekin singing a soft song, for once not overly out-of-tune, the cold didn't bother her anymore, her body felt soft, pleasured and languid as she tried to relearn how to breathe. Valen had collapsed on top of her, his heavy weigh a warm, welcome blanket, soft sighs of pleasure still escaping him. She could feel his seed, still scalding hot on her abdomen between them, and felt a small twinge of disappointment at the loss of potential life, although she knew he had been wise not to risk a pregnancy while they were still down here in Baator.

The thought of a baby with Valen didn't send her into a panic as it normally would, instead it made the warmth inside her spread a bit more.

There would be time, one day.

A little baby, with bumps on its forehead where its horns would grow and a tiny tail twitching. She smiled, content, joyous, happiness warming her from the toes up.

Gods, she had it bad.

* * *

Deekin had taken to singing lullabies and looking to her belly as if he expected a baby to pop out any minute now. It was cute, in its own strange way, although it made Valen blush and growl at the kobolt.

Velaris smiled. She had caught him petting the kobolt’s head when it had mentioned how happy he was for Boss and Valen, and that they could count on little old Deekin to sing their babies lullabies.

Her heart fluttered. Her tough, scary tiefling, that could mow down an entire army of men like they were nothing, that could be terrifying and fierce; her tough, scary tiefling, that was the most tender and careful lover she’d ever had, whose eyes melted when she told him she loved him, who put himself in front of huge beasts so that a tiny kobolt wouldn’t get hurt.

They slept together every night after that first time, entwined into a tangle of limps, as close together as two spoons in a drawer. She woke up every time with his eyes watching her face as she slept, those intense blue eyes warm and liquid with love, his usually stern mouth curled into a little loving smile.

They had made love again, quietly in the darkness, barely moving, kissing desperately to stop their moans and groans of ecstasy from waking up the softly snoring kobolt. They had rocked together, his large body on his side behind her, his legs sliding between her thighs while he held her to him with a large hand across her belly; that damned tail of his had climbed up to muffle her breathless moans, and she had for the first time realised that it was an erogenous zone as potent as his very manhood; when she’d sucked his tail into her mouth he had nearly blacked out from pleasure and his rough hands had tightened on her hips as he had fought for control.

Desperate, hurried couplings in dark corners followed, with only the bare essential items of clothing removed or pulled to the side, muffled sounds, stolen kisses. Cania allowed for nothing more.

Yet love could bloom in the darkest, most frozen of places, and for the first time in her life she felt what it was like to actually breathe and live for someone else. A goofy smile perpetually graced her lips, and even her lame, promiscuous humour gentled, became more thoughtful of his sensitivities; her tiefling could still blush like a ripe tomato, which was strange considering the things he did to her in the dark.

Deekin had written them a song, something about hell and heaven coming together, heart to heart forever and ever, a rogue having stolen a demon’s love, a demon winning the fair maiden’s soul.

Valen smiled every time he heard it and the boinks on Deekin’s head had grown increasing less.

But then Deekin had to add to it, and once Valen had heard him sing ‘the fair maiden palmed the demon’s ‘affection’ and then he got a raging erection’, he had chased Deekin around the camp with Devil’s Bane, cursing a blue streak, while Velaris held on to her stomach, tears of laughter running down her face.

* * *

Unfortunately, the mirth hadn’t lasted long. Once they had found the Knower of Places and had finally found the path to her sister, the Knower of Names, their final stretch of their journey had brought them face to face with what Valen feared the most: the Blood Wars.

The path led to a huge fortress inhabited by frost giants and ice elementals, which were not an easy task, but they managed to get through them relatively unscathed. Just then, though, a hole exploded into one of the walls and a Baalor stepped through, followed quickly by a Pit Fiend. Valen’s eyes grew wide and a shudder went through him, but she failed to notice as she struggled to bring the survivor of the fight down. When she turned back to him, he was on his knees, shaking uncontrollably, his eyes wide and alternating between his usual blue and a deep, raging crimson.

Velaris rushed to his side, but he pushed her back, growling low in his throat, while his body shook in spasms so violent that his armour rattled and his weapon fell to the floor.

“Valen!” she rushed towards him again, but a small hand gripped her wrist and kept her back. She looked down to Deekin, anger and fear mounting at her. “Let me go! He needs me. Valen!”

Deekin dug both his heels and whined. “No, Boss, don’t goes near him. He told me to takes you and run if this ever happened. Deekin promised, Boss!”

Enserric found the worst moment to voice his opinion. “That thing looks diseased. Strike it down, I say!”

She wretched her hand away, threw Enserric to the ground, and run back to her tiefling. She could hear the shouts and screams of both baatezu and tanar’ri coming through the hole and she understood what this was; a battlefield of the Blood Wars awaited them on the other side.

She pushed back on his shoulders until she could see his eyes and then slapped him across the face with all her strength. His head whipped to the side, and he groaned, but she gave him no chance to retaliate; with desperate, panicky urgency, she climbed on his lap, wrapped her legs and arms around him and touched her forehead to his.

“Valen,” she gentled her voice. “Valen, my love, come back to me.”

His hands came to grasp her arms and she hissed as his fingers grasped her hard enough for nails to penetrate her skin and bruises to start forming. He growled and snarled, then threw his head back and roared, his body wracked by convulsing spasms.

Tears started running down her face, the pain from his grip and the fear at watching him like this, the sheer desperation of the thought of losing him to the taint of his blood making her reckless. There was only one thing she could do.

She kissed him. She poured all her love and fear and want in her kiss, she moaned his name, gave all she was and had in one hungry, ravenous kiss. He bit her, snarling, but she didn't let go, she continued kissing him; she whispered she loved him, begged him to come back.

Slowly, his mouth gentled and he started responding to her kiss, while his hands released her forearms. She pulled back to look at him and his eyes flashed again.

“No, no, do not stop,” he panted and she glued her mouth to his again, kissing him as if her life depended on it; maybe it did.

Deekin started singing a soft, soothing tune.

A shudder raced through Valen’s muscled torso before he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him, holding on to her like a lifeline, and buried his head in her shoulder. “Velaris. I almost...hells. My love, my life. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Neither she, nor Deekin later made any reference to his sobs.

* * *

Valen was silent for the rest of their soon coming to an end adventure. He didn't lose his control when they crossed a battlefield of warring tanar’ri and baatezu, he didn't lose it when a host of devils descended on them, he didn't lose it when the final guardian raised his ugly mug and roared towards him. He killed with pinpoint precision, rage and bloodlust kept carefully in check. He obliterated devil after devil, not even blinking.

She should have been glad, but something inside her screamed in sudden fright. Something was wrong. Something was amiss. The foreboding feeling kept growing as they battled their way towards the place where the Knower of Names was imprisoned, and she tried to talk to him. He was aloof, distant. It was as if the Valen she had first met had come back, only that the distrust in her eyes was not directed to her but to his own self.

With a pang of pain, she realised he had made up his mind: once the battle was over, and they had defeated Mephistopheles, he was going to leave her.

He had gotten it in his fool head that there was no hope for them, no future, that while the Blood Wars called to the taint in his blood he wasn’t safe to be around. Their gazes met and held, and his eyes widened, reading the pain and sadness in hers. Then he looked away and all her dreams crushed to the ground around her feet. Belatedly, she remembered why she had never before let herself fall in love so completely, why she had always left first when things seemed to be getting serious.

Because when love didn't work out, it hurt like a bitch.

She wasn’t known for lowering her head and accepting her fate like that, though, and she cornered him, demanding an answer.

“You are leaving, aren’t you?” she accused, looking out into the distance. At her side Deekin jolted then looked to Valen but didn't speak; instead, he inched nearer to her, and unseen, patted her hand.

 Tears pooled in her eyes.

Valen sighed next to her, also avoiding looking at her. “Yes. After the battle is done.”

She drew in a deep, calming breath. “Why?”

“I am a danger to you. My demon blood, the taint in my soul. My grasp on my humanity is a precarious thing at the best of times. I will not...” he cut his own self off, sighing heavily. “Velaris. What if I lose control like this when...I could hurt you, even kill you.”

She didn't say anything. She wouldn’t beg. Gods above, Devils bellow, she would not beg. “So there is no hope for us?”

“I am afraid not. Forgive me.”

She looked at his back as he went ahead to scout the path, his tall form blurred from the tears swimming in her eyes. Deekin slipped a scaly hand in hers and squeezed;  a sob escaped her at this show of sympathy. The man she loved was walking away from her with determined strides, but his steps faltered a bit when he heard her broken sob; she bit her lip and stiffened up her spine.  No, she would not keep him by her side with her tears. She squeezed Deekin’s hand back and struggled to smile.

She had been the one to have walked away in the past, breaking hearts right and left, without a single care.

Turnabout was _such_ a nasty bitch.

She learned her own True Name and Deekin’s and Nathyrra’s and even the Sleeping Man’s. She asked the True Name of the Reaper and of the one true love of Droopy, the Sleeping Man; her jaw nearly hit the floor when she was told it was Nathyrra- then her eyes misted over.

“What is the name of my one true love?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“It is Oeskathine the Demonwrestler, the one you know as Valen.”

She didn’t even look at him, just bend her head and cried.

“His name does not please you?” the Knower of Names asked, sympathy in her voice. “You can use his true name to make him do anything; stay with you, serve you, even love you.”

She looked at him then, and he turned his face to her, hissing at the sight of her tears, fear and hope blending in his eyes. “No,” she said, her voice sad. “He already loves me...it’s himself he has a bone to pick with.”

Deekin spoke up. “Why not commands him not to lose his control anymore?”

Both their eyes shot wide. Both of them held their breaths. Both of them trembled.

“Oeskathine the Demonwrestler,” she gasped then blurted the command out before she had time to think it over. “I hereby free you of your demonic taint.”

He just looked at her curiously, as if he didn’t understand what she had just said and then suddenly his eyes went wide. He stiffened, and a tremor like an electric current raced violently through his body. A moment later he doubled over and he spasmed as a strange, black sheen lifted from his body and dispersed.

She ran to him, helping him stand up straight again. When he opened his eyes there was something...different about him. That otherworldly aura, that rage that always seemed to be smouldering at the back of his eyes, the taint in his soul...she looked him over, then smiled.

“I...I can’t believe it!” he looked at himself with incredulity, examining his hands, the tail that is still twitching behind him, the horns on his head. “I...feel so strange, so different. The taint...” a small smile started spreading on his face, and the one on hers matched it. “The taint is gone. I feel...I feel wonderful! I feel human!”

He burst into joyous, delighted laughter, then picked her up and twirled her around, her own bubbly giggles joining him. “My love! Thank you! Thank you for this wonderful gift.”

“So there’s hope for us after all? You’re not leaving me?”

He stopped laughing and twirling her around and let her slide down his body, until their faces were even.

“I don’t think I could have walked away, anyway, my love. My heart cannot beat without you.”

She sighed and leaned against him, secure in his arms. “I don’t think I could have let you walk away, anyway, my love. Mine can’t either.”

Deekin crossed his arms.  “Deekin thinks you are both idiots.”

Valen chuckled. “Valen thinks Deekin might be right.”

“Is there any other name you wish to know?” the Knower of Names asked, a small on her face.

“Sure,” Velaris scampered off Valen, her mission suddenly back into her head with a jolt. “Mephistopheles’. So I can command him to drop dead or something.”

The Knower bowed her head. “I am afraid that is the one name I am not allowed to tell you.”

“Shoot. There go my hopes to make him sweep the floors alongside Grovel.”

Deekin tugged on her sleeve, then whispered something in her ear. For the second time in one sitting, Velaris’ eyes grew wide and she smiled brightly at the kobolt.

“Tell me your own name,” she told the Knower, and after paying the ‘price that the Gods demanded’ she used it to command her to tell her the True Name of Mephistopheles. That one drained the last of her coffers, and for once, even Valen was glad for her habit of picking up and selling every little piece of junk they had ever come across. As well as appropriating any stray purses.

“Deekin,” Valen addressed the kobolt as they were about to be transported back to the city of Lost Souls. “You do realise you have saved the day, today, do you not, my friend?”

Deekin blinked.

“Deekin did?”

“Plus I have you to thank for not losing the love of my life, you do realise that, don’t you my intrepid kobolt hero? No dragon could have done more.”

If kobolts could blush, she was certain Deekin would. Instead, he nodded, puffed out his little chest and smiled a toothy grin which stayed on for hours, as Valen’s last words echoed in his ears.

“Believe in yourself, little hero. I do.”

* * *

It was so...bleh. So unclimatic an end to their grand adventure. She just commanded Mephistopheles to die and he did.

Valen commended that she could have let the Archdevil suffer a little, but after the destruction she had seen him wreck upon Waterdeep...nah. She just wanted that creep gone, out of her life for good, so she could focus on the important things; namely locking herself in a room with Valen for about a week. And a bath. Gods, a bath, a hot steamy bath, with oils and soaps and Valen in it.

Hmmm...she could die happy.

Valen was happy to accommodate her, and chuckled at the dreamy look that had crossed her face when the large tub was carried in their room. They left Deekin downstairs, to regale the survivors with the account of their adventure and the little kobolt couldn’t be happier.

Her handsome tiefling warrior leaned back on the bed, his tail swishing over his muscled thigh, watching with a predatory expression as she prepared for her bath. She looked to the water, then at his measuring her up, losing her breath at the sight of him. She wanted him naked, freshly bathed, his blood-red hair streaming on the white linens. With a smile she motioned him to her, and he rose and approached her with the fluid grace of a big cat, like a panther stalking its prey.

Bath time had been his playtime.  She had let him pamper her, stroke her body which he was seeing under the bright summer sun for the first time, let him lick and bite and suckle her flesh before she’d had enough of his sensual teasing and pushed him back to climb on top of him and ride him until he needed to be bathed again.

But the aftermath had been _her_ playtime. Languid and boneless after the bath and his recent orgasm, Valen had lain there like a sacrifice and let her play. She had marvelled at his pale, firm flesh, traced all the scars on his body, kneaded and petted his slick, toned muscles. She had delighted in exploring him, finally slaking her curiosity about that damned tail; the spot above his mouth-watering ass, where it sprouted from his body was a spot she licked until he was bucking into the mattress, and begging her to stop. She then turned him around to deal with another appendage, just as intriguing as his tail. It was licked and sucked just as thoroughly, worshiped like it deserved to be worshiped. In the end, Valen had had enough of her teasing, and held her head down on his staff with fists knotted in her hair.

She had been more than happy to oblige him.

They slept after that, until Velaris was woken by her legs being pushed apart, Valen shooting her a devilish look before he bent his head to her and drank from her aching centre till she thought she would get permanently brain damaged from the pleasure.

Those horns of him proved to be excellent to hold his head in the right angle.

“Not so shabby overall,”  Enserric mumbled at some point, “but her down strokes need a bit more work, and you should put a little more force behind your thrusts,”. Velaris laughed so loudly that the din and noise of the tavern below stopped for a moment. Valen just glared at her, then threw a cloak over the weapon rack where Enserric was resting, before turning back to her. He grabbed her by the ankle and positioned her to the edge of the bed, then took her again, muttering that he had to work on his thrusts some more, and then she would have to work on her down stroke.

That was just fine by her.

* * *

They barely emerged from the room for food and to check on Deekin for days, until word arrived from the Seer. Overjoyed that she was alive, they both made preparations to leave and join her and the remaining of her forces in the small village the followers of Eilistraee had build near her temple in a nearby forest.

Deekin followed them, and so did Grovel, the goblin she had rescued from the Undermountain dungeon.

It was a strange group that crossed the Seer’s camp a few days later.

The Seer was elated to see them, delighted to hear that Nathyrra had opted to remain with the Sleeping Man. She gave them a little cabin for their own and invited them to stay for as long as they wanted.

And so they did, the days blending together, watching the dark elves dance and sing in the moonlight, making love under the sunlight, without a care in the world. Valen was at peace for the first time; although the demon part of his heritage was still alive inside him-sometimes coming out in horrible bouts of temper- the call of the Blood Wars, the rage and bloodlust were gone. Valen could be what he had always wanted: a good man.  But with horns.

Velaris spend her free time talking to the Seer and helping the women of the camp with everyday chores. Her help mainly consisted of lending hem Grovel, but anyway, it was help of a sort.

One thing bothered her, though. Valen had made no mention of their future together and while she was not a conventional sort of woman, and marriage didn't concern her, she still couldn’t get that dream of having his child one day out of her head.

Others made comments about when Valen would make an honest woman out of her, but he just laughed and replied that that would take a brain transplant, and then made her give back anything her wandering fingers had appropriated. 

When she had dared mention babies, though, he’d lost all his humour, paled, and replied that he would not pass his demonic blood to any innocent babe.

That had been their first argument as a couple.

He won. But she didn't quit.

* * *

Velaris planned her assault like a conquering general. She would get that baby she wanted, even if she had to drive him absolutely wild to do so. His control was a thing of legend and he had warned her not to push him too much, because his demonic blood might take over. He had warned her; mating a demon was something she might not enjoy.

Bull. Velaris wanted to see him wild and unrestrained, wanted him to lose control, craved the violence and unrestrained passion his eyes promised when they flashed red. He was always careful not to hurt her; but what if she wanted it to hurt a little? She was frustrated by his refusal to let himself totally free with her. That damned control of his was always there, always present. He didn't trust himself to be his true self with her, and that hurt. She tried to explain that to him but he had just looked at her with wide eyes and told her that he didn't want his demon blood coming between them.

She realised of course that it was himself he still didn't trust, but she couldn’t help but be a little heart-broken too; didn't he trust in her when she told him she loved him?

Didn't he realise, couldn’t he fathom, that she loved him so much, so damned much, that nothing could turn her off?

She didn't love Valen despite his demonic blood; she loved him with it, and because of it.

She knew what she had to do; short of using his true name, which she had already half-forgotten anyway, the only way to convince him to let go would be to seduce him to the point where that abominable control of his snapped.

And she also knew what the key to that would be.

That damned tail.

The Seer agreed to help her, and appointed a midnight feast under the stars for the day that Velaris was at the peak of her fertility, the very night when her body was ripe and ready for him, and she felt more than wanton and sensuous with feminine power.

When the feast arrived, and the music started playing, Velaris smiled at Valen then slipped off his lap and threw the dress she was wearing to the side, leaving herself clad only with the thin, almost transparent sheath that the rest of the dancers were wearing; it was gossamer silk, so soft and sinuous that it looked like water flowing down her body.

She joined the dancers, a pale flame among the dark-skinned Drow, and danced with wild abandon, twirling gracefully, giving all her being over to the rhythm of the music; if Eilistraee was watching, perhaps she would grand her her wish that night. The dance became a prayer, a fervent plea. She lost herself in it, disconnected from her body; all she could feel was the grass beneath her feet, the rhythm of the music and his eyes on her body.

When the music ended, she swayed back to him, breathless and already hot from the dance. He was panting, his eyes dark with want, his whole body vibrating. His tail was twitching, pointing straight up, and as the rest of the dancers split up into couples and retreated among the trees, she leaned down to kiss him, breathing in his ear how much she wanted him, how much she craved his touch.

Valen forgot that this was a dangerous night, or chose to ignore it.

He half-dragged her, half-carried her to their room, where he ripped the dress off her and threw her down on the bed, then removed his own clothing with wildly trembling fingers. Already aroused to the point of pain, he climbed on top of her and sighed like a condemned man being shown clemency-a sigh of utter relief- once his flesh touched hers.

His tail came up to cup her face as he looked into her eyes with red flashes going off in his.

Velaris smiled saucily then wrapped both hands around the shaft of his tail and rubbed up and down. She turned her head to lightly kiss the tip, then run her tongue along the shaft, her soft breath fanning the sensitive skin.

Valen shuddered wildly. His erection twitched against her belly.

“Love, stop. Don’t push me that far,” he moaned, his back arcing as she run one hand down the length of his tail to stroke and pet the point where it sprouted from his body, and the firm globes of his ass underneath it.

He groaned, his head lowering on her chest and his corded arms shaking as he fought for control above her.

“I love your tail,” she crooned in his pointed ear, then her mouth trailed even higher, over his straight, proud nose, his eyes, his forehead, to reach his curved horns and gently lick at the base of one. “I love your horns,” she continued, then turned her attention to his tail again. “I love your demon. Let him come out and play, Valen.”

He groaned then jerked as she flicked her tongue against the pointed tip of his tail.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I’m asking for all of you. I’m asking for a part of you,” she flicked her tongue some more, and watched in glee as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Take me, Valen. Take me and give me all you have.”

She laid an open mouthed kiss on the underside of his tail.

His nostrils flared. "Do. Not. Do, That." She just smiled cheekily to him and run the flat of her tongue over the pointed tip of his tail, watching in secret thrill as his eyes darkened  some more and the pulse on his throat jumped erratically. Another ragged moan escaped his lips, his chest above her vibrating.

"By all the demons in the Abyss. Stop. Don’t do that."

She smile seductively then slowly run the tip of her tongue along the edge of his tail, meeting his eyes with a challenging look.

“Why, what are you going to do about it?” she taunted him and then drew the spaded tip of his tail in her mouth and sucked; strong, bold movements, her tongue caressing the underside, her teeth scrapping along its length.

His whole body started shaking, trembling, primal lust making his demonic blood heat, scream, roar to life with a vengeance. He threw his head back and roared, his glorious red hair streaming behind him and she just chuckled and bit down on his tail.

Hell broke loose.

Valen growled, a beastly, animal sound that rumbled in his chest. His eyes turned crimson and he snarled at her, barring his teeth, before he pinned her underneath him, all finesse and careful tenderness forgotten. A half scream –half moan escaped her as he bit down  on her shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and he growled once more, the beast in him seeking her total submission. His tail wrapped around her neck as he held her down, her arms thrust over her head, his muscled legs and torso pressing her into the mattress. He growled again, his teeth still holding her shoulder,  and she sighed and went lax, then arched her neck to him like a she-wolf to her alpha male, instinctively baring her throat to him.

He lost some of the tension in his frame, but none of the violence that was burning in her eyes. With some small trace of fear that was making her adrenaline run hotter through her veins, she whispered his name in a fervent plea as he positioned himself at her opening; she had wanted him wild and unrestrained, and Gods help her, that’s exactly what she was getting right now.

He surged inside her; one brutal, driving thrust, stretching her, claiming her, his length a red-hot rod of ecstasy deep inside her, the engorged head resting against the opening of her womb. The tender muscles struggled to accommodate him. Gods, he was big, she knew he was big, but he had always been careful with her. He had always coaxed his way inside her inch by torturous inch, cautious not to hurt her. This was a taking, a claiming, a brutal stamp of ownership on her most tender flesh. This was a demon taking her, _fucking her_ , ruthlessly shoving his whole length inside her and she had better take him, she had better wrap around him like a glove, because he was out of control enough to hurt her if she didn't.

He grunted as she squeezed around him and then the muscles on his back and arms bunched as he arched his back as far up as he could, moulding their hips even tighter together, sending his shaft even deeper, deep enough to bruise. He held exquisitely still, their flesh merged together, and rocked in place, rubbing himself inside her, nudging the very end of her, as if he wanted to crawl inside her whole, to permanently unite himself to her.

Her head whipped on the pillow, liquid heat spreading inside her, gushing from her core, and coating the invader that was determined to split her in two. He drew back; one slow, agonisingly pleasurable rasping of his shaft against nerve endings that were suddenly leaping to life inside her, then slammed back in. Then again. And again. Slow, torturously pleasurable withdrawals, her sheath tightening around him as if trying to keep him inside her, then one brutal, violent thrust back in. She screamed every time he slammed into her snug depths, and he replied in growls and moans and feral snarls. His tail wrapped around his torso to find her nub and rub against it and she mewled, her body bathed in sweat, as more heat rushed through her, as the tight coil of sensation wound even deeper in her belly.

When the first shudders rushed inside her, making her toes curl, he lost the last remnants of his control; he moaned, a deep, agonised sound before flipping her over and pulling her on her hands and knees. He thrust inside her again, the new position sending him even deeper, and then started shafting her with short, staccato thrusts, hitting that very special spot inside her. She was nearly incoherent with need now, moaning his name, screaming it, begging him to give it to her as hard and fast as he could, begging him to fuck her back to the nine hells.

The short thrusts gave way to a brutal rhythm then, hard and fast and furious. She buried her head in the pillow, trying to stifle her screams, biting down on the fabric. Gods, it hurt, but it hurt so good. He was bruising her, she wouldn’t be able to walk straight for days, but she loved it. Pain and pleasure mixed, one feeding off the other, the pain blissful and the bliss almost painful. 

Her orgasm nearly killed her. She lost her breath, her vision darkened, then stars exploded behind her eyelids. She heard herself mewling, screeching, she could feel the agonising pleasure whipping her body; Gods, she would not survive it. She didn't come, she didn't orgasm, she didn't explode. She disintegrated, her body dissolved, melted, imploded; then he delivered one last, punishing thrust, lodging himself so deep inside her she could swear she could feel him in her very womb and released his seed inside her, scalding her. She came again, her convulsing sheath milking every last drop of his essence, soaking it up, and he roared behind her then collapsed on her back, his teeth biting down hard on her exposed nape.

She thought it was over, but she had obviously been wrong. Her eyes widened as she felt him hardening some more, felt a desperate, massive blooming along his staff, and she then lost her breath on another shocked orgasm. So demons...demons locked into their females, knotted them. Gods. He tried moving and that made her scream; he was twice as wide now, stretching her to the point of almost distress. His cock started pulsing inside her, filling her again, spurts of seed coating her insides, every one triggering soft, pulsing orgasms that made her lose her breath and her eyes roll backwards. It was such continuous, agonisingly soft pleasure that her heart nearly gave out.

“You wanted the demon,” he growled against her ear, desperation in his voice. “I warned you. This is what you get when you mate one.”

She turned back to kiss him over her shoulder, tasting her own blood on his tongue. Some of the anxiety in his eyes faded; stupid man, had he been afraid this would disgust her somehow? Inside her, he spurted again, making her gasp with another small orgasm. “I love your demon,” she purred, “I love every part of you. I love everything you are and have. Never forget that, Valen.”  She then dropped down low, raising her ass even higher for him, and wiggling her hips.

 He rocked against her, moaning like a dying man, then his eyes flashed red again.

“Keep wiggling that lovely backside at me, and I’ll have no choice but to take it.” He all but growled, his raspy voice almost unrecognisable with lust.

“Can’t do anything while we’re stuck like this,” she giggled, then moaned as another small wave of pleasure rolled through her as he spilled inside her some more. “Gods, how much more do you have?” she gasped.

The tiefling moaned and thrust weakly inside her, testing if he could pull out, then sighed and hissed as he pulsed again. “Plenty. You wanted a baby, did you not? This...” and he pulled back a little to show her how firmly connected they were, “ensures you’ll get one. As for that beautiful ass of yours, my love...you are forgetting something.”

He eyes bulged out as she felt something caress down the crack between her buttocks. That wasn’t his finger...it was pointed, and had a leathery feel to it...Oh. OH.

“Valen? Is that...?”

A throaty chuckle answered her.

* * *

Nine months later, give or take a few days, Valen’s tail was twitching nervously as he put out trembling hands to hold his first born son, a child that had some of the weirdest ancestry in all of the planes. He was one part demon, one part elf, one part human, one part planetar. He also had the weirdest family a baby had ever had: a drow godmother, a kobolt uncle and a goblin nanny.

Veledrian Shadowbreath was a very special, very lucky baby, no doubt about it.

Valen opened up the blanket to look at his son, and smiled at the tiny tail that was hanging limp between his legs; soon it would start twitching and they would often find the babe suckling it. The child opened foggy eyes to look at him and Valen gasped to see his own eyes looking at him from the face of another living being; it was a shocking, breathtaking moment, to see something of his passed on so clearly to his son. The blond tuft of hair on his little head promised to turn into his mother’s unruly mop and he smiled and brought his lips at the child’s forehead for a tender kiss.

The little hellion grabbed on to one of his horns with surprising strength, and Valen had to ask for assistance to pry him off. Handing him over to Deekin, he went inside to check on his love, but found her still miffed at him. She threw a pillow at his head and told him she wasn’t letting that ‘damned tail that started all this’ anywhere near her, ever again.

Valen just chuckled.

In the years to come, that damned tail of his soothed babies crying in the night, was the first thing tottering toddlers held on to as they took their first steps, was even used by teething babies, while Valen winced and bit his lip not to cry out. Veladrian was closely followed by another son, Vanel, and then it was Valen that had to beg and use his tail to seduce her into agreeing for another baby, craving a little girl to spoil rotten. Vesandra, a spitting image of her mother, was the result.

Velaris was soon surrounded by twitching and swishing tails, and she couldn’t be happier.

Valen was often heard saying that the one good thing about that damned tail of his was that it was like an extra hand that he could use to hold her close to him; her and their beautiful family.

Deekin just swore, babies all over him, and asked them to keep their hellions from grabbing him with their damned tails.

The end.

 

 

 


End file.
